After the boys of summer have gone

So, apparently, I miss baseball. This shouldn't surprise anyone, even though my Sox love will never be as strong and ever-present as in 2003-2004. Bygones. The point is this: Last night, I dreamed that the Sox needed me. They needed me to play. Apparently, in my fantastical dreamland, I am a catcher, but when they told me I was getting in the game, I panicked. Because I had forgotten all the signs. So I had to talk frantically with the pitcher, trying to decide if one finger down means the fastball or two fingers. And then I woke up, because that was some stressful shit.